


Nine Days Wonder

by gingertart50



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Humor, M/M, Mpreg, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 00:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1708994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingertart50/pseuds/gingertart50
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Dumbledore died from the curse before Draco could attempt to kill him, the trio didn't run off on a camping trip, Ron makes good on his early promise of being a brilliant strategist and Snape gets his usual shit deal from fate. He does get heroically shagged, though.</p><p>Written for Snarry-a-thon11; prompt: A prophecy is revealed in which Snape has to be impregnated by Harry in order to give birth to the key to Voldemort's demise. The catch – it's not a baby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nine Days Wonder

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my plot-bunny wrangler, beta and all-round jolly good sort, lovetoseverus, without whom the ending would have had egg on its face.

"WHAT?"  
  
Harry's bellow echoed up the stairwell and was followed, like a malignant echo, by the shriek of Mrs Black's portrait.  
  
"Mudbloods! Filth! Blood traitors!"  
  
" _Silencio!_ " A third voice cut through the cacophony. Soft as the dripping of poison, sharp as the edge of a finely-honed steel scalpel, it whispered along the dim corridors and crept into the dust-shrouded rooms of the old house. Hermione raised her head from her notes to listen. Harry in a tantrum and Snape in a temper were equally unmistakeable.  
  
"Do you honestly believe for one minute that I would bend over for _you_ , Potter?"  
  
"Oh dear," Hermione sighed and Ginny shook her head.  
  
"No way!" Harry shouted. "Absolutely no fucking way! Ron, you're barking mad!"  
  
"No I'm not," Ron insisted. "It's our only chance. Hermione did the research, Kingsley and Professor McGonagall checked and double checked and -"  
  
"Piss off!" Harry snarled and his footsteps thundered up the stairs, followed by the slamming of a bedroom door.  
  
"Weasley," Snape said silkily, "take your prurient little brain and that of the insufferable bookworm and apply them to something useful, like cooking supper, and leave the planning to the adults. Now get out of my sight."  
  
A minute later, Ron appeared in the doorway of the Black library. He looked from his girlfriend to his sister, shrugged and muttered, "That went as well as expected, didn't it?" before throwing himself into the chair nearest the fire and stretching his long legs out across the hearthrug.  
  
"You didn't think they'd accept it on the first time of asking, did you?" Ginny asked.  
  
"Of course not," Hermione chided her, "but they're considering it now, aren't they?"  
  
"I wish I wasn't," Ron said bleakly. "Are you okay with it, Gin?"  
  
"I can't say I'm ecstatic, but if it'll finish it once and for all, who am I to complain?" Ginny made a completely meaningless scribble on the edge of her parchment and tossed the quill onto the desk. "I've accepted it really. Harry and I just didn't ... didn't work. One of those things."  
  
Ron made a noise that hovered between sympathy and embarrassment. Ginny jumped up and grabbed her scarf from the back of her chair. "I'm going to make some soup for supper."  
  
"Watch out for sulking Potters and Snapes," Ron told her. She gave a tremulous little smile and went out.  
  
"Poor old Ginny," Ron said. Hermione snorted and reached for another book. "Hey, she had her heart set on Harry," Ron protested and Hermione waved a hand without looking up.  
  
"Of course she did, dear."  
  
The impersonation of Molly Weasley was wickedly accurate. Ron frowned.  
  
"What d'you mean?"  
  
"Only that she's been seeing Neville for weeks."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Ron twiddled his thumbs for a while, then asked hopefully, "Hermione, d'you think Harry might be in denial about being gay?"

oooOOOooo  
 

"You have to, I'm afraid. The prophecy is perfectly clear: the Chosen One will impregnate the Spy –"  
  
"Pettigrew is a spy," Snape said nastily and there was a moment of contemplative silence.  
  
Then Kingsley shook his head. "The Spy for the Light, Severus."  
  
"That's got to be you, Snape," George Weasley said with a note of satisfaction.  
  
"And me," Harry snapped. "Don't forget it takes two."  
  
"Oh yes, Potter, how very difficult for you! You'll have to get your dick out and put it to some use – if you can get it up -"  
  
"Severus!"  
  
"Really, Severus!"  
  
"Severus, I say, old chap..."  
  
Molly, Minerva and Arthur hissed his name like a chorus of offended snakes.  
  
"Explain about the spell, if you would, please." Kingsley turned to Hermione, who cleared her throat and looked apologetically at Harry.  
  
"Well, Harry needs to impregnate the Professor –"  
  
"How?" Harry asked.  
  
"I told you, Potter, you get out that useless little appendage –"  
  
"I mean," Harry said loudly, "he's a _bloke._ "  
  
"You have sex and we recite this incantation, Harry."  
  
"Have sex? Like, penetrative sex?"  
  
"Yes, Potter, you _penetrate_ me with your _penis_ , if you actually have one."  
  
"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said coolly. "Yes, Harry, you have anal sex and you speak the incantation. Then after nine days, we'll know whether the spell has worked or not, and if it hasn't, you have to do it again. It isn't very clear, but I assume that a pregnancy detection charm would give a positive or negative result at that stage. Then we wait until the resulting baby – the prophecy calls it 'the product' for some reason – is ready to arrive and it will apparently become clear what we have to do next."  
  
"So that's nine months for the baby to arrive and then we might have to wait until he or she grows up to become a fighter?" Ron asked incredulously.  
  
"I'm sure that the Order will have it all under control, dear," his mother assured him.  
  
Harry and Hermione looked at one another and refrained from rolling their eyes with an effort.  
  
"Preposterous," Snape declared. "If this is all you have to offer, I'm going to bed."  
  
"I'll come too then, shall I?"  
  
Snape stared at Harry as if he had grown a second head.  
  
"Potter, which part of 'I will not do this' did you not understand?"  
  
"Either I have to die or Voldie does, and I'd rather it was him, so I'll give it a go if you will. If you're not scared, that is."  
  
A dull, mottled flush rose across Snape's cheekbones and he leaned across the table until his face was inches from Harry's.  
  
"You Gryffindor cretin! Your actual words were 'No fucking way!' if I recall correctly. You can't even make up your mind. Don't you think before leaping feet first into trouble?"  
  
"I leave the strategy to Ron and the research to Hermione, and I'm supposed to leap dick-first into this anyway. I trust them; I was just shocked, that's all. Come on, Professor, we might as well give it a try. Nothing else has worked, so what have we got to lose?"  
  
Fred muttered something crude about virginity but both Harry and Snape ignored him. With a swirl of robes, Snape turned, snatched the sheaf of notes from Hermione's hand and shook them under Harry's nose.  
  
"I shall check these thoroughly and let you know in the morning," he declared, before striding out of the room with his head high.  
  
"Tea, anyone?" Molly enquired.  
  
"I need to get back to the Ministry," Kingsley said, "but thank you for the offer. I'll leave Severus and Harry in your capable hands, Molly, Arthur."  
  
"I have to go back to Hogwarts." Minerva McGonagall nodded sharply at Harry and Hermione, then paused to say with a slight note of anxiety, "You will be careful with him, won't you, Harry?"  
  
"If he's careful with me," Harry said. Instead of the expected tirade, Minerva merely shook her head and stepped into the fireplace. The twins returned to their shop and Harry sat staring morosely into the fire.

oooOOOooo

  
"Relax, Severus," Molly crooned, rubbing his shoulders. Snape muttered something into the pillows that were supporting him on the old four-poster bed, face down, his lean bottom in the air. "Think of it as a medical procedure," she told him. Hermione and Arthur continued painting runes onto his bare back, while Ron and Ginny did the same for Harry, over on the couch.  
  
"Don't smudge them," Ron snapped, as Harry wriggled.  
  
"Tickles."  
  
"Hard luck, Potter. Into your perfect life some discomfort must fall."  
  
"Oh shut up, Snape."  
  
"Professor Snape, Harry," Arthur said repressively. "Severus is making a great sacrifice for the cause. There, finished. Come along, Harry."  
  
"Aren't you lot going to go out now?"  
  
"Of course not, dear. We have to make sure that the protective runes work, that the wards hold to hide the burst of ritual magic, and that the incantation is exactly correct."  
  
"But I can't perform while you're all watching! What d'you think I am, a stud dog?"  
  
"Get your scrawny arse over here," Snape growled.  
  
"You can talk, _Professor_. Look, can't you all be blindfolded or something? I can't do it like this."  
  
"The todger not cooperating, Potter? No lead in the pencil?"  
  
"Shut up, you greasy bastard!"  
  
"Oh yes, Potter, you're such a seductive little devil! Keep talking like that and I'll come from your voice alone!"  
  
"Look," Harry said pleadingly, "Mrs Weasley, this is horribly embarrassing. Please, couldn't you and Mr Weasley wait outside?"  
  
"Hermione and I can do the incantation, Mum. You know you can trust Hermione, and I'll make sure the runes don't get wiped off."  
  
Once the older Weasleys had reluctantly quitted the room, and Ron and Hermione turned their backs, Harry took himself in hand. Oddly enough, there was something slightly appealing in the sight of Snape, naked and vulnerable, arranged on a heap of pillows among the hangings of the old bed. It helped that his face was hidden, but his arse was surprisingly pert and the shadows of its cleft promised things that Harry had only fantasised about in the darkest, deepest corners of his imagination. This was the Half-Blood Prince, arranged like a maiden in a harem awaiting the sultan's pleasure.  
  
He placed a hand on the skin of Snape's thigh. It was warm and smooth. His cock twitched and he wordlessly _Accio-ed_ the lubricant that Snape had supplied. Applying the cool, slick gel to his own increasingly interested cock, and Snape's quivering arse, he realised that yes, he could do this. He circled Snape's tightly clenched anus with a finger.  
  
"Professor, you need to relax."  
  
"Just do it, Potter."  
  
"I'm not into hurting people, sir. You need to let me in." He rubbed experimentally and felt the muscles give a little. "That's it, just loosen up and I'll try to make it as easy as I can."  
  
He could hear Snape breathing sharply in and out. Then inspiration struck and Harry reached around, pushing his hand between Snape's hip and the cushions, until he curled his fingers around the soft flesh of his cock.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"I told you, making it easier."  
  
"That is not necessary."  
  
"It is for me. See?" In the slick warmth of his lubricated hand, he could feel Snape's cock beginning to swell. He rubbed the skin over the end, the way that he liked to do for himself, and Snape's breathing deepened and he shifted slightly, as if torn between pushing into Harry's fingers and pulling away.  
  
In between stroking the hardening shaft of Snape's rather impressive cock, and the unfurling bud of his arsehole, Harry found his own erection growing in a very satisfactory manner. After a couple of minutes, he was able to insert a finger and Snape immediately clenched on it.  
  
"Easy," Harry murmured. Hermione had advised him to search around ... ah, that must be Snape's prostate! The man gave a little gasp, hastily muffled, and his cock jerked to attention in Harry's hand. After that, a second finger joined the first, then a third, and then Harry lined up and with the determination for which he was famed, pushed his eager cock into the tight, hot channel and gasped for breath.  
  
He was fucking Professor Snape. Oh Merlin. His thighs shook with the effort of restraining himself. He pulled out slowly and in again.  
  
"Gonna come," he slurred, his brain melting with the pure bliss of the heat and clenching muscles that rippled around his cock.  
  
Ron and Hermione immediately began reciting the incantation and Harry shuddered, plunging balls deep, shuddered again and came with a yell.  
  
"Typical," Snape said, then grunted as Harry grabbed Snape's cock and began fisting it. Harry took rather an obscene amount of pleasure in seeing Snape's hips jerking wildly as he came.  
  
Harry rolled onto his back, panting and grinning stupidly. Snape scowled at him.  
  
"Potter, you look like a complete imbecile."  
  
"I did it."  
  
"Congratulations. What do you expect, cuddles?"  
  
"Wouldn't mind."  
  
"Bugger off, I need a post-coital fag."  
  
"No you can't," Hermione said primly, "that would be very bad for the baby."  
  
"The product," Snape corrected her, "and do I look as if I care?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Professor, but we want this to work. We'll know in nine days, won't we?"  
  
"Yeah," said Harry, "we might have to do it again."  
  
"Not if I can help it," Snape said. "Get out! All of you! OUT!"  
  
Harry grabbed his robe and shoes and they left Snape, glowering with his arms crossed, the bedclothes pulled up past his nipples.

oooOOOooo

"Morning, Professor," Harry said. Snape did not look up. He was hunched over one of Kreacher's massive cooked breakfasts: sausages, bacon, scrambled, poached and fried eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes, baked beans, fried potatoes and fried bread. "Have Hermione and Ron already had breakfast?"  
  
The empty porridge bowl, grapefruit rind, kipper bones and toast crumbs suggested that Neville and Ginny may have already left too. Then Harry realised that there was only one cup and saucer in use, and one set of cutlery. "Professor Snape?"  
  
Snape raised his head. He was chewing rapidly and his expression was blank. Gradually awareness came back into the black eyes and he blinked, and then looked down at the table. He swallowed and reached for his teacup. His hand trembled very slightly.  
  
"Potter." It was recognition, but possibly something more.  
  
"Are you all right, Professor Snape?"  
  
"Hungry," Snape said as if slightly dazed. "Extraordinarily hungry. The expenditure of large amounts of magic results in an increase in appetite, which you would know if you had ever listened to any of your teachers."  
  
"Yeah," Harry agreed. That bacon did smell heavenly. "I could do with a fry-up, too, Kreacher."  
  
"Yes, Master. Kreacher is cooking now," the elf called from the depths of the kitchen.  
  
"Thanks. Some of your ginger marmalade would be good, too."  
  
They sat without speaking, the only sound the clink of knife and fork and the almost inaudible sounds of Snape's mastication.  
  
By the time Hermione, Ron, Neville and Ginny had arrived, Snape had cleared his plate and Harry was making inroads on his own breakfast. Kreacher produced toast and marmalade and then bustled round setting out cereal and boiled eggs.  
  
An owl arrived for Harry with a report from Percy at the Ministry. Another Death Eater raid had taken out a couple of shops in Diagon Alley and the Ministry was under attack on an almost nightly basis. As usual, the instructions were to stay put and keep safe, while the grown-ups tried to rally the troops in the field.  
  
"I suppose we can wait another eight days, until we know if it worked," Neville said. "I'd really like to go back to Hogwarts, though."  
  
"No," Harry said. "We've lost too many already, Nev. We can't afford to lose you."  
  
Snape turned to Kreacher and muttered something, but it turned out that he was only asking for more toast. Harry followed Hermione and Ron to the library, where he attempted to look up the charms for determining pregnancy. They all seemed to be for witches and had fiddly wand movements that gave the results in pink or blue script, which he felt Snape would not appreciate. Ron drew up a complicated scheme for arranging their lines if the final battle took place at Hogwarts, and they ended up making lists of possible participants with their strengths and weaknesses, all of which depended on so many variables that they eventually gave up and allowed Hermione to nag them into studying counter-curses for a couple of hours.  
  
When Harry went down to the kitchen to ask Kreacher for tea and biscuits, he found Snape back again, or perhaps he had never left. He sat amid the black sweep of his robes, his back straight, and a slice of Bakewell tart in one hand. He raised it slowly to his mouth, took a small bite, chewed and swallowed, his gaze fixed in the distance as if he was in a mild trance.  
  
"Professor Snape?" Harry felt a flicker of concern. This was not right at all.  
  
"Professor is most appreciative of Kreacher's cooking," the old elf said smugly.  
  
"We all are, Kreacher. May we have a pot of tea and some of your homemade biscuits in the library?"  
  
"Of course, Master. Kreacher is glad to be of service."  
  
"Thanks, mate."  
  
Snape took another bite of tart. Harry waved a hand in front of his face and slowly, so very slowly, the light came back into his eyes.  
  
"Potter? Go away. Don't you have anyone else to annoy?"  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
Snape considered this. A muscle flickered in his cheek and he placed the slice of tart carefully on the empty plate. Harry realised that the man was breathing in shallow little gasps. He was sitting completely still.  
  
"I would be happier if you would bugger off and leave me alone," Snape said, his voice barely audible. Moving with great deliberation, he unfastened the front of his robes to reveal the buttons of his shirt straining in their holes. He eased them open one by one. His lower ribs flared out over the swell of his pale, hairless belly and as he ran his fingers over it, it was obviously as tight as a drum.  
  
"Have you been eating all morning?" Harry asked.  
  
"Professor has had an excellent breakfast." Kreacher never beamed, but he appeared very satisfied with his morning's work. "Also, Professor has had elevenses and lunch – three times."  
  
Professor Snape shifted slightly, arching his back, raised a hand to his mouth and burped. Then he placed both hands flat on the table and levered himself, very gingerly, to his feet.  
  
"I shall be in my room," he stated. "Do not disturb me unless the roof falls in or the Dark Lord dies."  
  
"What if he calls you?"  
  
Snape turned his dark, heavy gaze onto Harry.  
  
"I am indisposed."  
  
He turned, devoid of his usual billow of robes, and made his way out of the kitchen.

oooOOOooo

  
 "So he didn't stop eating all morning?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Looked like it. He was full to bursting and I think he went to lie down."  
  
"Hm." She reached for a book. "It might mean that the spell worked. If he's expending a lot of magical energy... he might well be over-compensating, though. If the spell worked, it shouldn't start draining his magic for months."  
  
"But perhaps he's growing female bits, you know, equipment for carrying a baby."  
  
"Good point, Ron. Maybe that's it. We'd better keep an eye on him."  
  
"Like he'll let us – is that Tonks' owl, Ron?"  
  
"Yup. Here, boy, what have you got?"  
  
The letter carried grave news: the Aurors had been forced out of the Ministry after a series of inexplicable explosions and Hogwarts was under attack. The wards were holding but all Order members – adult members, naturally – were required to repel the Death Eaters. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Ginny appeared to be on their own guarded only by an unpredictable Snape with belly-ache.

oooOOOooo  
  


Snape appeared for dinner and to Harry’s amazement, devoured half a roast chicken, most of the vegetables and a big dish of roast potatoes. Once again, he seemed to go into a fugue state, eating steadily and with his entire concentration. Ron told him about the letter from Tonks but Snape merely nodded and reached for the apple pie. They left him consuming cheese and biscuits and went to bed.

oooOOOooo  
  


"If he's supposed to be supervising us," Ginny said, "he's being about as much use as a chocolate cauldron."  
  
They stood in the passageway, peering through the kitchen door to where Snape was ploughing through a huge and heavy-looking steak and kidney pudding. It was three days since what Harry fondly referred to as 'the fucking spell' and Snape had barely stopped eating except to sleep. He alternated between that blank fugue-like state, in which he ate until his belly was packed to bursting, and surly silence disturbed by random gurgles.  
  
The consummate spy did not seem to be aware of their scrutiny. He dropped his knife and fork with a clatter, sat back in his seat and cradled his belly with both hands. He leaned his head back, gave a queasy-sounding hiccup and groaned.  
  
"Professor?" The others realised that Harry had, typically, gone to face the dragon in its lair.  
  
"Get out," Snape whispered, but there was neither spite nor rage in his words, only a bone-deep weariness.  
  
"Would you like a stomach potion?"  
  
There was a very long silence before Snape gave an almost infinitesimal nod. Harry raised his hand and _Accio-ed_ a bottle from the first-aid cabinet, unstoppered it and held it to Snape's lips. He sipped and swallowed repeatedly, as if he could only bear to introduce the smallest volume of the potion to his already overburdened belly.  
  
"We're concerned about you, sir," Hermione said, approaching warily with Ron and Ginny as back-up.  
  
He said nothing, only glared, and she sat down to face him. "You're completely out of it, most of the time, and you're eating so much that frankly, I'm scared you're going to rupture your stomach."  
  
A muffled rumble came from under Snape's robe. His hand twitched, as if he refrained from clutching at himself with an effort.  
  
"I reckon if Hogwarts is still okay, we should get Madam Pomfrey to have a look at you," Ron said, adding a belated "sir," when the black glower switched from Hermione. "This isn't like you."  
  
"What isn't like me, Weasley? Putting my life on the line? Risking everything? Being forced to supervise idiots and endeavour to prevent them from ruining everything yet again?"  
  
"That's just it, Professor, we could be doing anything and you wouldn't even notice."  
  
"Sir, we're all stuck here, everything's going to hell at Hogwarts and at the Ministry, and you're ..." Harry waved a hand, frustrated, "you're ill, or something."  
  
The 'or something' hung in the air.  
  
"Would Professor sir like some of Kreacher's rhubarb crumble?" the old elf's croaking voice broke the uncomfortable silence.  
  
"I don't think so, thank you, Kreacher," Hermione said, but Snape bared his uneven teeth in a grimace and snapped, "A small portion. The word you are avoiding is 'pregnant', Potter." He smoothed his hand over the gentle swell of his gut.  
  
"Hardly, after only three days –"  
  
"Miss Granger, this is a magical pregnancy, is it not? Tell me, how many pregnancies initiated by ritual sex magic have you encountered?"  
  
"None, sir," Hermione admitted, although there was a determined tilt to her chin. "But I still think that this level of over-eating is dangerous; you won't even know ‘til day nine whether it worked and you're really expecting."  
  
With a flurry of furious activity, Snape unfastened his robe. His waistcoat hung open and his shirt strained around his middle, gapping between the buttons, and he had completely unfastened his trousers. At least his underpants were no longer grey and baggy, Harry thought. Snape reached out, dragging Harry's hand down and pressing it to the warm, smooth skin inside his white Y-fronts.  
  
"You put it here, Potter, you can take responsibility for telling your friends if the ritual worked."  
  
Between his narrow hips, there was a swelling about the size of a large grapefruit under the abdominal muscles.  
  
"Is that it already? Wow!"  
  
Snape pulled Harry’s hand out and threw it aside as if disgusted by the touch of his fingers.  
  
"So don't tell me what I can or cannot eat. Now get out."  
  
"Okay," Harry said soberly, "we'll leave you alone, but we're going to keep an eye on you whether you like it or not."  
  
"Sir," Hermione sounded as if she wanted to be tentative but was forcing herself to confidence, "what about vitamin and nutritive potions? Would they help?"  
  
"If I had the time or the energy to brew them, which I do not."  
  
"I can do that, of course."  
  
He sneered at her.  
  
"Of course you can, you insufferable swot!"  
  
"Oy! Don't you talk to Hermione like that, you gr –"  
  
"Stop it!" Harry's voice was sharp and his expression hard. "Leave it, Ron."  
  
"But I'm not having him mouthing off at Hermione when she's only trying to help!"  
  
"Harry's right, Ron." She laid a hand on his arm. "Professor Snape is taking a terrible risk for us and he's got tummy-ache. They're only words. Come on, I need to brew some potions and you can all help; we can make some more stomach potions while we're at it."

oooOOOooo

  
 Snape came down to breakfast in a cloud of black robes and irritation. He settled himself in his usual chair, leaned across Harry for the teapot and gave a surprised grunt, clapping a hand to his belly.  
  
"What is it, sir? Did you feel it move?" Harry was ridiculously excited at the idea of a baby, _his_ baby, growing inside someone else.  
  
"No," Snape snapped. "It is ... unexpectedly bigger." He ran a hand over his robe and for a moment, pulled the fabric taut over a low, round swell where he had been concave only days before.  
  
Harry couldn't help himself; he placed his own hand on Snape's abdomen.  
  
"Is it meant to be that hard? I thought you could feel babies kick but that's like a lump of rock."  
  
"Who am I to judge?" Snape jabbed Harry's arm with an elbow. Harry took the hint and withdrew his hand. "It may be nothing but compacted food, it may be twins, or perhaps I am incubating a watermelon. All I can be sure of is that it demands to be fed, copiously and often, or else I turn dizzy."  
  
This was as much as they had managed to get out of him for the last four days.  
  
"I've made you the potions," Hermione said, handing over two bottles, "and I restocked the stomach potions while I was at it."  
  
Snape nodded and poured a careful measure from both bottles into his teacup. He topped them up with tea and sipped impassively.  
  
"So," Ron said, continuing the conversation interrupted by Snape's arrival, "if Remus is right, that's only three bits of Voldie's soul to go. The diary, the ring, the diadem and the cup are sorted, we all agree that Nagini must be one, there's one in old snake-face and one still unaccounted for."  
  
"Supposedly," Snape muttered.  
  
"What's that meant to mean?" Ron demanded. Snape bared his teeth in a humourless grin.  
  
"Think about it, Weasley. A connection created when he committed a murder, a connection between the Dark Lord and something of some value to him, something he wants and needs."  
  
Hermione gave a little cry and clapped her hands over the mouth, staring at Harry with wide, horrified eyes.  
  
Ron's wand was at Snape's throat, or would have been, had Snape not drawn his own wand and pressed the tip to Ron's sternum.  
  
"You bastard!"  
  
"You fancy your chances against _me_ , do you, Weasley?"  
  
"Stop it," Harry reached out to turn both wands away with his hands. "He's right, Ron. I've been trying and trying to think my way around it, but I reckon my scar's the last Horcrux."  
  
"So even if we kill him, he can still come back. Oh, Harry..."  
  
"Potter might or might not be the one to kill him," Snape said, reaching for the dish of bacon and eggs. No-one else seemed hungry. "Whatever this is," he patted the front of his robes in a strangely possessive and tender gesture, "it is either incidental or else it will assist in the final act."  
  
"A baby," Ron said scathingly, "yeah, right. How long does it take to teach a baby to cast _Avada Kedavra_?"  
  
Snape shrugged, as if supremely indifferent, and piled bacon onto his plate.

oooOOOooo

  
"I've got to get out of here and face him," Harry stated, allowing the parchment to roll up and handing Tonks' owl a piece of sausage.  
  
"I'm starting to dread breakfast," Hermione said. "What's happened?"  
  
"Hogwarts. They've managed to get the under-age students out somehow and the place is under siege. Voldie has sent in the giants."  
  
"There's only two days to go before we know if the spell worked, Harry. We've got to hold out until then."  
  
"Well it's done something," Ron said, sitting down next to Hermione. "I've just seen Snape on his way down. Poor bugger."  
  
Harry opened his mouth to comment on the phenomenon of Ron actually displaying any sympathy for the Greasy Git, when said Git walked, or rather, waddled into the kitchen. He was leaning back to counterbalance the weight of his bulging belly. He eased himself into a chair and ran his hands around his middle, as if even he could barely believe what was happening to him.  
  
"Sir," Hermione whispered. "Are you..."  
  
"Pregnant?" Snape enquired, enunciating perfectly. "Yes, Miss Granger, I could well be."  
  
"I was going to say 'all right', actually. Does it hurt?"  
  
Snape leaned his head back against his chair and rubbed his sides with the heels of his hands.  
  
"Yes. Happy?"  
  
"Of course I'm not happy! None of us are. We don't want you to suffer, why would we?"  
  
"Because you hate me?"  
  
"I don't," Harry said strongly, and then looked slightly surprised as everyone stared at him. "Well, I don't. You make me mad as hell sometimes, and I want to throw things at you, but I don't _hate_ you. You're on our side; you wouldn't have done this if you weren't."  
  
"God, I regret it," Snape groaned. He sat there with his eyes shut and his back arched, his belly pushed out as if he had a watermelon strapped under his robe. Cautiously, Harry reached out and slipped one of the buttons out of its hole. Snape did not move. Harry unfastened another button, then another, until he had exposed a segment of pale, round belly. It was hairless, faintly flushed with pink. As daring as ever, Harry laid a hand flat against the shiny, stretched-looking skin and pressed gently. There was no give to it at all, no elasticity; Snape contained something round and smooth and hard as stone.  
  
Quickly, before Snape revived from his fit of introspection, Harry pushed aside the robe to lay bare his entire abdomen. It was not quite spherical, being fatter at the top, tapering down between his narrow hips.  
  
"It looks like an egg," he said. He tapped gently with a knuckle, resulting in a muffled knocking sound, as if he had tapped on bone beneath thin skin; a skull or a knee-cap. Snape grunted and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Inside him, something glugged.  
  
Hermione leaned across to press her hand next to Harry's.  
  
"Gosh," she said faintly, "I think you're right. It feels like a hard shell, doesn't it?"  
  
"How in Merlin's saggy knickers is it going to come out?" Ron asked in a whisper. "I mean, look at the size of it, and the prophecy said we'd know if the spell worked on day nine, and this is only day seven."  
  
"Don't imagine that I cannot hear you, Weasley," Snape murmured. Hermione snatched her hand away.  
  
"Can we do anything to help you, sir?"  
  
"Get me a potion for heartburn," he said, "and one to ease muscle strains."  
  
"That one's topical," Hermione said as she _Accio-ed_ the potions.  
  
"Potter can make himself useful by rubbing it on. Then I need to eat. Tell the elf to make something easy to digest and fetch my nutrient potions."  
  
Snape sat at the table, holding his belly with one hand and shovelling food into his mouth with the other, and Harry was unable to look away, feeling guilty and horrified and fascinated all at once.  
  
"Shit," Ron said suddenly, dropping his fork with a clatter. When Harry turned to him in surprise, he could see the freckles standing out against Ron's pale skin.  
  
"What is it, Ron?" Hermione asked and he shook his head, lurched to his feet and strode out of the room.  
  
"Is he ill?" Harry wondered, but Ron was back in a couple of minutes, carrying parchment, quill and ink.  
  
"Had a thought," he muttered, spreading out the parchment and bending low over it.  
  
"Wonders will never cease," Snape said, but they ignored him.  
  
Ron scribbled for a while, scratching out lines and letters until he eventually sat back, staring down at the indecipherable scrawl.  
  
"The bastard," he said.  
  
"What is it, Ron?"  
  
"Dumbledore meant you both to die."  
  
Snape paused in the act of lifting a spoonful of blancmange to his mouth.  
  
"As revelations go, Weasley, that one is a day late; we decided this yesterday."  
  
"Stop putting him down all the time," Hermione snapped. Both Snape and Harry turned to stare at her, Snape's eyes narrowing dangerously. "He's a brilliant strategist. Go on, Ron."  
  
"But he planned it before the second prophecy, didn't he? Everything hinged on the first prophecy making old red-eyes choose Harry, but the second prophecy brought something new into the mix – Occlumency! Fuck, that's why you're off with the fairies all the time; you're Occluding like mad, aren't you? 'Cos old Voldie keeps summoning you."  
  
"The Dark Lord is not forgiving of those who ignore his summons."  
  
"You're fighting him so he'll leave Harry alone! You've got to be, otherwise he'd be putting all his efforts into finding Harry – hang on. No..."  
  
"Weasley," Snape growled, but Ron stared at him as if transfixed.  
  
"He still trusts you. He thinks you're going to bring Harry to him."  
  
There was a taut silence as Ron Weasley and Severus Snape stared at one another. It was the first time Harry had ever seen Snape regard his friend with respect. He had glimpsed the occasional spark of what might have been appreciation in Snape's shuttered gaze when Hermione came up with some esoteric spell or potion, but it was clear that Snape was at last encountering the Ron who had solved McGonagall's chess game in his first year and planned the sorties that had found four of Voldemort's Horcruxes.  
  
"This bloody spell had better work," Ron said. "Otherwise you'll be taking Harry to be slaughtered."  
  
"Yes," said Snape, and returned his attention to his meal.

oooOOOooo

  
Harry, Ron and Hermione were huddled together in the gloomy drawing room, going over and over the battle plans, when a silvery creature stepped through the wall and faced them. All three drew their wands in automatic reflex action.  
  
"Whose is it?" Hermione whispered and Harry shrugged.  
  
"Dunno. Is it an antelope?"  
  
"I require your assistance," the shimmering beast said in Snape's voice and then it dissolved into mist and vanished.  
  
"Snape?"  
  
Harry hurried up the stairs and tapped on the door of Snape's room. He could hear a faint sound from inside, and when he eased the door open, he realised Snape was moaning with every exhalation.  
  
He lay on his back, his belly jutting high and round. He had his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped around the widest circumference of his body.  
  
"Professor?"  
  
Snape ignored him. His mouth was open and his eyes screwed shut.  
  
"Sir? Do you need a potion?"  
  
Harry approached carefully, placing a hand on the blanket over Snape's impossibly swollen abdomen.  
  
"Stomach potion – number six," Snape groaned, rolling onto one side and trying to curl up. " _Now_ , Potter!"  
  
He seized the bottle from Harry's hand, pulled out the stopper with his teeth and in a series of urgent gulps, swallowed the entire contents. Hermione and Ron hurried into the bedroom as he allowed the empty bottle to drop to the floor. Hermione stooped to pick it up then looked worriedly at Harry.  
  
"How much has he had?"  
  
"The full bottle."  
  
" _What?_ " She waved the bottle wildly. "Why did you let him? You're only supposed to take a teaspoon at once!"  
  
"What's it for?" Ron enquired.  
  
"Constipation. He'll _explode!_ "  
  
"It wants – to get – out," Snape said in a series of grunts.  
  
"It can't! It's impossible; that can never get through your pelvis!"  
  
"Magic."  
  
"You mean you want us to spell it out of you?" Harry asked worriedly.  
  
"We can't, sir," Hermione protested, "we'd risk taking your liver or intestines or something; the caesarean spell is really tricky and can only be performed by an experienced healer."  
  
Snape's insides made an ominous growling sound and he rolled from side to side, limbs pulled in tight.  
  
" _Accio_ the bloody – thing!"  
  
Reluctantly, Harry drew his wand, sighted along it and said " _Accio_ Snape's egg!"  
  
Snape's belly lurched as the egg jerked towards Harry. Snape let out a howl of rage and agony.  
  
"Not through – front! Fool!"  
  
"Well you didn't say, did you?"  
  
"No!" Hermione cried, "Harry, don't! The egg will crush his organs, it can't possibly get out like that."  
  
"Cut me open."  
  
There was a moment of stunned silence before all three vehemently refused.  
  
"We don't even know what we're supposed to do with the damned egg," Ron protested. "Are we supposed to throw it at the bastard?"  
  
"Oy, that's my egg you're talking about!"  
  
"Take me down – Floo – talk to Poppy."  
  
"Most sensible suggestion yet," Ron said, as he and Harry took Snape by the arms and lifted him to his feet. He could not support his own weight, and either the potion or his own body's attempts to expel the egg caused visible contractions to ripple beneath his tightly stretched nightshirt.  
  
"If we cut him," Hermione panted, hurrying in their wake, "and I applied dittany as soon as you'd lifted the egg out, and we all used healing charms, we might be able to keep him alive until we got him to Madam Pomfrey."  
  
"Hogwarts is under siege. We'll be lucky if we even make contact."  
  
"What's going on?" Ginny and Neville burst out of one of the bedrooms. "We heard a scream!"  
  
Snape bellowed in agony. He twisted in Harry's grasp, clutching his stomach, and dropped to his knees on the dingy landing. Harry snatched away his hands as sparks of magic ran across Snape's exposed skin, stinging like nettles. He crouched in his grey nightshirt, thin limbs wrapped around his body. Harry could see him in profile, the savage beak of his nose and a single, fierce eye. He saw the black eye widen, then Snape said "Oh!" in a soft, wondering voice. He turned his head to look up and Harry had never seen his expression so open and unguarded. "But it is easy after all! Of course, even bloody Black managed it ..."  
  
His nose grew first, lengthening and curving into a caricature of himself, then the change swept back and down, remodelling his skull, feathering his unkempt and oily hair, pulling back his arms, and all the time, he grew, surging up towards the dark ceiling until his wings filled the room like a thundercloud, vast and black.  
  
"It's going to kill us!" Ginny screeched in a moment of panic, but Harry felt a surge of unexpected hope. He reached up to run his hands along the sleek feathers of Snape's breast.  
  
"He's an Animagus! This's still Snape."  
  
"But he's enormous! How's it possible?" Neville wrung his hands as the bird turned a beady black eye on him.  
  
"Size doesn't matter," Harry exclaimed, "Skeeter's a tiny beetle, Minerva McGonagall turns into a cat, Snape's a – what the hell is he?"  
  
"A roc or rukh," Hermione said, "the mythical bird of the Arabian Nights; big enough to wreck ships or carry off an elephant."  
  
"He is that," Neville agreed.  
  
The bird furled its wings and shook them into place, then it folded itself down until it crouched, filling the landing with its feathery bulk. Its eyes closed and it tucked its wicked scimitar of a bill in among its feathers and made a huge, soft sighing sound with a hint of a croon.  
  
"She," Harry said. "It's a she and I think she's laying an egg."

oooOOOooo

  
When the roc stood up, a couple of hours later, a mottled green and white egg, larger than a watermelon, lay on the carpet. The bird snapped its beak a couple of times and flexed its shoulders, and then it melted and shrank, until Professor Snape stood before them once again. Hermione courteously handed him his robes.  
  
"I should think that's a weight off your mind, sir," Harry said, but Snape merely sniffed and wrapped himself in familiar black.  
  
"You need to attempt to stun me," he said.  
  
"Sorry?"  
  
"In my Animagus form, Weasley! Do try to keep up. I need to know how resistant the roc is to magic."  
  
"What should we do with the egg?" Harry asked. He was cradling it in his arms.  
  
"Put in the airing cupboard for now."  
  
"Hermione, this is my son or daughter! Or chick. I can't just abandon it in a cupboard!"  
  
"It will need turning at regular intervals and it needs to be warm. Tell the elf to handle it. Now wait for me to change and then stun me."  
  
It proved to be impossible to stun the monstrous bird.  
  
"Good," said Snape, turning back again, " _Now_ I shall take you to the Dark Lord, Potter. If you are prepared."  
  
"Not really, no, but I suppose there's no point in waiting. Look after my egg if I don't come back."  
  
"Don't think you're going without us!" Ginny snapped.  
  
"You need us, sir." Ron's voice was level, almost calm. "You'll never get near Voldemort without us. The Order will kill you first."  
  
Snape stared at him then spun in a swirl of black.  
  
"Very well. Be prepared to Apparate in ten minutes. He is calling me."

oooOOOooo

  
Snape strode through the massed ranks of Death Eaters, Harry struggling ineffectually in his grip. Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville moved towards the members of the Order, the Aurors loyal to Shacklebolt and the Hogwarts staff, their Patronuses slipping before them, carrying an urgent appeal not to interfere and on no account to attack Snape.  
  
Voldemort's lips peeled back into a smile as mirthless as the rictus of a corpse.  
  
"Sseveruss, you are late."  
  
"Dumbledore left powerful protections on the boy," Snape said, throwing Harry to the ground. "Also, Potter proved surprisingly intransigent. However, I was able to get him here unharmed, my Lord. He is yours."  
  
"Good. You have been a most faithful and loyal servant." He pointed his wand at Harry and casually, as if it no longer mattered, murmured, " _Avada Kedavra_."  
  
"Dear Merlin, you'd better be right, Hermione," Ron whispered as a cry of horror rose from the defenders of Hogwarts. The Death Eaters cheered.  
  
"Unfortunately I no longer have need of you, Severus. I regret this. Nagini, kill."  
  
The snake in her protective silvery cage rolled through the air, but instead of backing away, Snape leaned towards it. His nose elongated and became more hooked and then he was expanding upwards, sprouting feathers as his arms spread and became mighty wings. His wicked beak grasped the snake, tossed her into the air and then opened wide, devouring her as if she was a worm. The Death Eaters fired spells but they ran off his oily feathers like water. His beady black eyes turned inexorably towards Voldemort.  
  
The Dark Lord took a step backwards, just one single step, but Snape leaped upon him, ripped his head from his shoulders and devoured him in five rapid, bloody bites.  
  
Harry stirred sluggishly and sat up, his hand pressed to his scar.  
  
"This isn't King's Cross," he muttered as Ron and Hermione reached him, throwing their arms around him and each other. Above them, the roc shrieked in triumph and took to the sky in pursuit of the fleeing Death Eaters.  
  
"Harry, are you okay? Did it work?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry said, sounding dazed. "He killed his own Horcrux. Dumbledore explained it all. Give me a hand up, will you?"  
  
"Dumbledore?" Hermione asked dubiously.  
  
"Tell you later."  
  
"Blimey," Ron said in reluctant admiration, "look at him! He's a one-man – or rather, one-bird – Armageddon!"  
  
"He knows how to hold a grudge, that's for sure," Harry said as the Snape-roc stooped from on high, grasping the Carrows, one in each foot, and carried them off to drop them in the lake. Directed by Shacklebolt, the Aurors were collecting Death Eaters from the water's edge, where they were pleading to be taken into custody.  
  
"What happened to Nagini and Voldemort?" Harry asked.  
  
"He ate them."  
  
"Oh," said Harry. "Oh my God…"

oooOOOooo

  
The Snape-roc crouched on the landing, glowering malevolently down at anyone who came into the gloomy old house.  
  
"You still can't change back," Hermione said. "Not until you've digested Nagini and Voldemort completely; Hagrid reckons that'll be another couple of days. If you were to change back with an undigested Voldemort inside you – well, stomach-ache would be the least of your worries, sir."  
  
The roc made a loud hacking sound and coughed up a bundle of black robes, which landed on the tiled floor of the entrance hall with a wet splat.  
  
"Here, you might as well do something useful and sit on this." Harry came out of the bathroom carrying a heap of bath towels and the egg. The roc snapped its beak a couple of times but Harry patted its rump and slid the egg beneath its feathers. "Exciting, isn't it? Will it be a chick or a baby?"  
  
The roc twisted its head almost upside down in an attempt to peer at the egg, and then shuffled until it was comfortably ensconced between its feet.  
  
"What do you reckon?" Harry asked. "Shall we try for another one? Would you like a clutch of them?"  
  
The roc thrust its ferocious face down until they were nose to beak and roared. Harry reached up and scratched the back of its head. "Yeah, suppose you're right. They'd only squabble. It might be a roc chick whose Animagus form is a baby, wouldn't that be cool?"  
  
The roc groaned. Ron tugged gently on Hermione's sleeve and they retreated down the stairs, to where Molly was vying with Kreacher for control of the kitchen range.  
  
There was a loud scuffling and an indignant squawk from upstairs and Fred chuckled.  
  
"That sounds like Harry, caught between a roc and a hard place. Wonder what old Snapey's incubating?"  
  
"Unfortunately, it appears that the whole purpose of the egg was to force Professor Snape into his Animagus form," Hermione said, brandishing a scroll of her notes. "It was a sex-magic ritual, not a reproductive one, so the egg will be infertile."  
  
"Cheese soufflé!" George exclaimed around a mouthful of sandwich.  
  
Fred nodded. "Scrambled egg and smoked salmon on toast."  
  
"Eggs Benedict!" they chorused together.  
  
Fred grinned and then clapped Ron on the back. "Ronnikins, seeing as how you're Harry's best mate, we volunteer you to go and tell Snapey that he's trying to hatch lunch."  
  
“He’s… what?” Harry asked slowly, brushing a feather out of his hair as he came into the kitchen. He looked in turn at each of the sheepish faces surrounding him.  
  
It was Hermione who braved the explanation. “Harry, I’m sorry, but the egg… well, the egg is just an egg. It contains a yolk, not a chick. Or a baby.”  
  
Harry snorted derisively, though it was a poor cover for his disappointment. “Well I figured that,” he said. “It’s not like I expected to be having a kid – and with Snape of all people!” He suddenly found the food Kreacher had set out to be the most interesting thing in the room, and began filling a plate. Conversation cautiously resumed around him.  
  
Hermione stepped over. “It’s not out of the question, you know,” she offered, quiet enough so only Harry could hear.  
  
He sighed and began flicking the pickles out of his sandwich. “As soon as Snape turns back, he’s going to leave. Now that the war’s over, what reason could he possibly have to stick around here?”  
  
A small hand squeezed his forearm reassuringly. “The answer might surprise you, Harry.” Hermione smiled softly as her eyebrows lifted.  
  
Somewhere upstairs, a very large bird screeched a demand for another bucket of stomach potion. By the sounds of it, Nagini and Voldemort were proving rather indigestible.  
  
“I think that’s your cue,” Hermione said, grabbing a fresh container of the needed potion and handing it to Harry.  
  
On his way out of the kitchen, he stopped just short of the stairs and turned, catching Hermione’s gaze. His lips turned up into a soft smile, and when it reached his eyes, the wonder there spoke of new possibilities.


End file.
